


The Reading Nook

by Meg13



Category: Trollhunters (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, General, Humor, Romance, Tooth-Rotting Sweetness, Tumblr Posts, Tumblr Prompts, but one or two other pairings, mostly stricklake, my personal dumping ground, no real rhyme or reason to these, tiny posts, wannabe character studies, you name it and i'll get to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2019-09-12 12:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 10,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16873122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meg13/pseuds/Meg13
Summary: backing up my tumblr only posts here on ao3.





	1. THE ROAD-TRIP FROM HELL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: Road-trip time with Barbara, Walter, a sunshine-safe Jim, and about ten familiar children.

**THE ROAD-TRIP FROM HELL:**

This was a bad idea.

No. Scratch that. This was a terrible, horrible idea. Maybe the worst he’s ever had and that’s saying something.

 _How did it come to this?_ Jim thinks, lip curling in disgust as the nauseating scent of baby poop invades his sensitive nostrils. He looks to his left, then his right – suspiciously eyeing the two rugrats he’s currently sandwiched between.

“Jim, honey?”

Jim’s gaze flicks forward to find his mother looking back at him through the mirror, brow furrowed. “Yeah?”

“Can you see which baby has a dirty diaper?”

Jim sighs, not-at-all eager to assist again. It’s been three days of this. Three days of changing diapers and wiping spit-up and desperately trying to maintain his sanity as five – yes, five! – babies howl relentlessly into his ears. Which is torture, sure. But if he has to watch his mom and Strickler hold hands or sing along to old people music or stare adoringly into each other’s eyes – dangerous while driving, though _that_ doesn’t seem to stop them – one more time...

The baby behind him begins wailing and Jim flinches.

“That’ll be Eustis,” Strickler says jovially from the passenger seat. “He always was a whiner. Though, I believe, his familiar may have a good excuse this time.”

“Jim, sweetie?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jim groans and twists around in his seat to peer down at the baby. The little boy looks miserable and Jim feels a tinge of shame at his flare of annoyance. Until, that is, an audible gurgle erupts from poor Eustis and his wailing raises an octave.

“Mom?” Jim’s nose scrunches as he turns back toward the front of the car. “What do I do?”

“Change him,” Barbara says simply, as if they aren’t sitting in a rented van with hardly enough room to wiggle their elbows much less change a dirty diaper.

“Can we pull over?” Jim asks as his nose begins burning.

“Where would you have me go?” She’s got a good point. They’re stuck in the middle of a four-lane highway, practically crawling at a snail’s pace and there’s really very little chance at anyone letting them over. “Walt, babe,” Barbara glances to her right. “Think you could give Jim a hand?”

“Of course,” Strickler answers and Jim rolls his eyes at how sickeningly sweet the changeling sounds. “Jim, if you could just… Can you get him unbuckled?”

“Isn’t that, like, illegal?”

And then, as if by magic, the other four infants begin whining and Jim finds he could care less about the legality of it all. They aren’t really moving anyway, and who knows how long they could be stuck in this traffic jam? Wouldn’t want poor Eustis to get diaper-rash, now would they?

Jim puffs his cheeks and nods once, gathering his courage for the task ahead. He unfastens his belt and turns, climbing on his knees to pull Eustis out of his carseat. Only, when he tucks his fingers under the baby’s armpits they’re met with a slimy, wet substance that Jim hopes like hell isn’t what he thinks it is.

“Mom,” Jim swallows back a sudden wave of nausea, “I think we have a blowout.” He turns his head just in time to see Barbara and Strickler exchange an amused chuckle. “I’m serious guys! It’s squishy on my hand!”

“Well, get him out,” Barbara scoffs, glancing at her son as Strickler unbuckles his seatbelt to twist around.

“Hand him to me,” Strickler says, holding out his hands.

The very distinct sound of something sticky coming apart is heard as Jim pulls Eustis out of the seat and, again, he has to swallow down a gag. “Oh! Oh gross,” Jim moans, lifting the sobbing baby over the back of the seat and thrusting him at Strickler.

“Shit!”

Jim’s not sure if Strickler is identifying the substance covering the baby’s backside or exclaiming surprise, but he’s happy to hurriedly pass the little guy off either way. “Where are the wipes?”

“Diaper bag.” Barbara jerks her head back, gesturing to the bag on the floor behind her seat.

“I can’t get them. My hands are covered in poop!”

Barbara rolls her eyes and reaches back, fishing around in the bag for the wipes. She grins when her fingertips find the plastic package and pulls it out with a triumphant, “Ah ha!”

She clicks it open with her thumb and tosses it onto Jim’s lap. He immediately grabs a wipe and starts to clean his hands when Strickler yelps, “The baby, Jim!”

Oh, right.

Eustis, still suspended mid-air by the armpits, is shrieking with rage and the other baby’s whimpers are swiftly turning into wails. They need to contain the situation _now_ or risk a five-alarm, Chernobyl-sized meltdown.

Grimacing, Jim makes quick work of Eustis’ overalls and diaper (only gagging twice, thank you very much) and deposits the whole getup in the designated trashbag at his feet. “Wait,” he says, glancing around in a panic. “Where are the diapers?”

“All the way in the back,” Barbara answers, failing an attempt to refrain from giggling. “Can you –“

“No, I can’t.”

“Just wrap him in a burp cloth,” Strickler suggests gruffly, beginning to lose a hold on his infamous patience.

“Where are –“

“The bag, Jim!”

“My hands are still covered in poop, Strickler!”

“And mine aren’t?”

“Mom!”

“Driving,” Barbara song-songs and shrugs. “And you should probably clean him off before you put on a fresh diaper.”

“ _You_ should clean him off,” Jim retorts with a childish grumble, but he yanks a pile of wipes out as instructed.

“Barbara,” Strickler coughs as the smell begins affecting him, too. “Darling, can you roll down the windows?”

Barbara sucks in through her teeth. “Ooh, super smell getting to you?”

Strickler nods and swallows, just as Jim moans, “Oh, for the love of… It’s in his _hair_!”

“Wait,” Strickler says, rolling his eyes in exasperation when Jim starts picking at the baby’s hair. “Get his shirt off first or else you’ll just have to do it again.”

Jim glares at him. “This is _not_ what I expected when I volunteered to drive with you to Jersey.”

“Don’t you mean, _bummed_ a ride because the gyre can’t hold all your scooter magazines?” Strickler asks sarcastically and readjusts his grip on a wiggling Eustis, allowing Jim to pull the soiled t-shirt over the baby’s head.

“You were heading east anyway!”

“To Missouri!”

“Mom!”

But Barbara is too busy laughing at the situation to admonish either of them.

“It’s not funny,” Jim growls as he finishes wiping Eustis from his knees all the way up to his head. The baby’s fussing slows now that he’s poo-free, but doesn’t stop. Nor do the cries of the other four, and Jim is just about at his wits end as he uses the last of the wipes to clean off his own hands.

“Will you take him?” Strickler barks when Jim purposely takes a _little_ too much time stuffing the used wet-wipes into the garbage bag.

Jim rolls his eyes, but tucks a cloth around Eustis and lowers the baby onto his lap. _He’s actually kinda cute,_ Jim thinks as he holds the now whimpering baby to his chest. The others are slowly settling down, too, and Jim looks up to find his mother gazing fondly back at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Thanks, sweetie.”

Jim shrugs. “It really wasn’t so bad. Kinda funny actually. Huh?”

“Ahem.”

Jim shifts his attention to Strickler, who is still turned in his seat with his filth-covered hands held up in front of him and an expectant look on his face. “Jim, can you please hand me the wipes?”

“Sorry, Strickler.” Jim shrugs, a vindictive smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “Fresh out.”


	2. CHECKMATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strickler battles a ruthless adversary.
> 
> part of The Only Constant world.

**CHECKMATE:**

“You,” Strickler growls, eyes flashing menacingly. “I trusted you.”

The little monster actually has the nerve to laugh at him, to  _giggle_ , as he presents the proof of his transgressions to the changeling.

“Never again.” Strickler shakes his head, disappointment palpable, and grabs the slimy, sticky appendage before there’s a chance of further destruction. He glances around, looking for something,  _anything_ , to aid him in his time of need but comes up empty. “We had a deal, you know? A deal you broke with that cavalier attitude of yours.”

The creature has the audacity to giggle again and Strickler pauses his search to sneer disdainfully down at him.

“Ah ha!” He cheers a moment later, eyes growing wide as he spots the elusive package he’s been searching for. He glances at the little gremlin apprehensively, taking note of the filth on his fingers as he deliberates his next move. If Strickler is quick enough, he may be able to acquire the package and reengage the thing before he slimes his surroundings. But if he’s too slow…

The changeling shudders.

It has to be done though. And so, after a suspicious peek at the perp, Strickler takes a deep breath and charges forward. He snatches his query and whips around just in time to watch the beast slather the sticky, slimy substance all over his cheeks, ears, and  _hair_.

Strickler sighs, a look of complete and utter exasperation on his face as he crosses the kitchen in defeat. “Daddy, zero,” he mutters as he pops open the wet-wipes and prepares himself for battle against a peanut-butter-and-strawberry-jam-covered toddler, “Walker… Well, I’ve honestly lost count at this point.”


	3. MORE THAN...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> super short response to trollhunters rarepair week.

**MORE THAN...**

“You are a good girl,” Uhl murmurs, smiling contentedly as Roxanne rests her beak over his shoulder and begins emitting that high-pitched whirring sound he’s come to recognize as a purr. “You are the  _best_  girl. And I love you more than schnitzel and strudel and…” He breathes and nuzzles his cheek against her stony Stalking flesh. “I love you more than Suzanna.”

“But please don’t tell her that.”


	4. REALLY, MA?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim does NOT appreciate finding another man's boxers in the laundry.

**SERIOUSLY, MA?:**

“Mom.”

Barbara looks up from the steaming mug of coffee in her hands. “Yeah, honey?”

“Whose are these?”

“Oh, um.” Barbara’s forehead wrinkles as Jim enters the kitchen holding out a pair of black boxer-briefs with his index finger and thumb, his lip curled in disappointment. “Where did you get those?”

“They were in the dryer,” Jim answers, eyeing her suspiciously. “Along with an Oxford t-shirt and some dress socks.”

Barbara quirks an eyebrow and takes a long sip of her coffee.

“Please tell me  _these_ ,” Jim emphasizes his point by jerking the offending underwear in her direction, “aren’t Strickler’s.”

“Well, honey…” Barbara purses her lips and tilts her head, frowning. “Do you want me to lie? Or do you want me to tell you they aren’t Walt’s?”

“Seriously, Mom?” Jim drops the boxer-briefs as if they’re on fire and lets out an exasperated scoff. “I just… I just can’t  _even_  with you right now.”

“Love you, sweetie,” Barbara calls as Jim backs out of the kitchen, shaking his head. She flinches when his bedroom door slams shut a moment later and then turns her gaze to Walter as he slinks guiltily out of the pantry. “Just couldn’t go commando for  _one_ day, could you?”


	5. WARM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara pretends the heat is out at her place so she can cuddle with Walter.
> 
> part of The Only Constant universe.

**WARM:**

The turning point comes in early December, about six months after the world  _didn’t_  end. It’s unseasonably cold and Barbara unexpectedly shows up at the shitty little apartment Walter has been renting above the movie theater downtown.

“Heat’s out,” she says, smiling apologetically up at him. “Mrs. Domzalski offered her guest room, but I figured we could work on the next phase of our little project if I came over here. Do you mind?”

“Ah, yes.” He shakes his head and then, upon realizing what he’s just said, physically cringes at the misstep. “I mean, no. Please, come in. I was just making a cup of tea. Would you care for some?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

He helps her out of her coat and makes sure she’s comfortable on the couch before heading back into the kitchen for the kettle and cups. She’s been to his place a handful of times, but he fails to recall if she’s ever actually been  _inside_  as he sets the teacups on the coffee table. Is she planning to stay all night? He wonders, tentatively. Does she know he only has one bedroom? He frowns. Surely, not.

They work well into the early morning hours, breaking only for the necessities (pizza and pinot) until the words and coordinates on the spreadsheets begin to blur. Walter finally sits back, his long green arms extending across the length of the back of the couch, and is pleasantly surprised when Barbara snuggles into his side.

“I’m afraid I can’t offer much warmth,” he says, not quite succeeding in keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

“You’re warmer than you think you are,” Barbara counters sleepily. “You’re  _more_ than you think you are, in general.”

Walter blinks, unsure how to respond to the compliment.

“I’m glad I came over.” Barbara yawns and drops her cheek to the side of his chest. “We got a lot done.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Only forty-seven babies left,” she continues with a chuckle. “What will we do with so much free time once they’re all placed?”

“We could…” He nibbles nervously on his lower lip. “We could go out.”

“Out?” She pulls back to look up at him, a curious expression on her face. “Like on a date?”

“Of course, that’s silly. We could just –“

She ignores him, her lips curling upward into that lopsided grin he adores so much, and she nods before settling back down against his chest. “Yeah. A date sounds nice.”


	6. THE STRUGGLE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> their relationship isn't all sunshine and rainbows.

If asked, Walter would describe the months that followed the Eternal Night as chaotic.

His relationship with Barbara had been fragile then, something battered and bruised he was desperate to breathe new life into. Every bit of trust, every inch of headway had to be fought for and any scrap of affection she bestowed upon him was hard-won. It took weeks for that wary, suspicious glint in her gaze to dim and longer, still, for her to stop over-analyzing his intentions.

They struggled – to make time, to communicate effectively, to feel  _whole_  – and there were times Walter had feared Barbara would tire of the seemingly insurmountable effort it took to be with him. But she didn’t, and as the chaos of the Eternal Night faded, so had most of their doubts.


	7. WHEN THE DUST SETTLES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> introspective Strickler.

**WHEN THE DUST SETTLES:**

The sun is dipping dangerously low in the sky when Walter finally pushes back from his desk, yawning. It had been a long, challenging day from the start - the staff meeting that morning hadn’t gone quite as well as he’d hoped (not that he can blame Miss Janeth for her dramatic outburst over the latest in a series of unpopular curriculum changes), there was an unusually steady stream of unruly teenagers to be dealt with, and both conference calls with the Superintendent had gone quite a bit longer than originally scheduled – and there’s still a mountain of paperwork and emails full of budget cuts and building repairs to sift through before he can head home for the evening.

Not that he’s complaining. Oh no, quite the opposite. He enjoys the endless workload, really, and has no qualms about staying late into the night drafting new safety procedures or approving vacation requests or analyzing test scores. It may seem excessive to some, which is probably why then Interim Principal Uhl had campaigned so hard for his reinstatement three months ago, but Walter secretly craves the routine and dedication it takes to run the high school. The only real drawback is the amount of time he’s forced into that itchy, uncomfortable Glamour Mask each day.

Most of the teachers know what Walter is by now, but they also know what he  _did_  and have come to terms with his lineage. School administrators and parents (oh god, the parents!), however, have not been nearly as open-minded as his faculty and it’s much easier to let them delude themselves into thinking he’s still a normal, middle-aged man than to reveal his true self. The fact that he’s immune to sunlight while wearing it is just an added bonus.

Walter sighs as he turns the chair and kicks his feet onto the windowsill, watching the sun’s descent with a rueful smile. Six months ago, when the dust had finally settled and the world had somehow managed to  _not_  end, he’d been completely and utterly lost. He was alive, yes, but he was also caught between two worlds, his acceptance into either precarious at best. What would he do? Where would he go? Was he doomed to live his life in the shadows, despised and ostracized by trolls  _and_ humans?

But then Barbara had wrapped her arms around his waist and had looked up at him with a small, tired smile on her face. “Let’s go home,” she’d murmured, and Walter had suddenly realized his anxiety was irrelevant because he belonged with  _her_  and that’s all that really mattered.

The pieces fell into place after that.


	8. HEY, JEALOUSY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> s2 finale, Strickler comes back to find Barbara has moved on.

**HEY, JEALOUSY:**

“Ah, young Atlas.”

“Strickler?”

“I hear you have quite the workload ahead of you,” Strickler says as the right side of his mouth creeps upward into that insufferable smirk of his. His green eyes flick to the kitchen where Nomura is examining a chip in her teacup, before settling back on the young Trollhunter. “Perhaps Miss Nomura and I can offer some guidance.”

A myriad of emotions flit across the teenager’s face – anger, confusion, reluctance, fear – but after a moment of hesitation, the boy sighs in what seems like relief. It’s difficult, Strickler knows, to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and having the opportunity to relinquish some of that responsibility to someone else must be quite welcome.

“Guidance would be appreciated,” Jim finally breathes. He glances at the clock on the wall and frowns. “But now isn’t the best time. Can we meet somewhere tomorrow after school?”

Strickler raises an eyebrow.  

“It’s just,” Jim starts, eyeing the changeling warily, “my mom will be home soon, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here when she does.”

“Jim, I will not allow my feelings,” Strickler pointedly ignores Nomura and her chuckling, “for your mother to affect my dedication to the destruction of Gunmar.” 

“She’s on a date.”

Strickler literally recoils and manages to spill most of the contents of his teacup down the front of his shirt. This time, Nomura bursts out laughing and is only silenced when said teacup is flung furiously at her head. She manages to duck just in time, and the poor china bursts into a million pieces as it hits the wall on the far side of the kitchen.

“Right,” Jim mutters sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “You can totally keep your feelings in check.”

“You caught me off guard,” Strickler accuses, swiping at the beverage covering him. A long, pink arm appears from the kitchen dangling a dishtowel that Strickler snatches contemptuously. “Who is she dating?”

Jim hesitates a moment before groaning miserably, “Señor Uhl.”

“Where… How… Uhl?” Strickler looks absolutely aghast, his green eyes wide and stunned. That twat!Did the man have no concept of common dating courtesy? No respect for the relationship woes of colleagues? No knowledge of bro-codes or the minimum waiting period before dating a maybe-friend-but-not-really’s ex? No goddamned honor at all? “How did that even happen?!”

“There may have been an unfortunate burrito incident a few Saturday detentions ago,” Jim says, trying (and failing) to look innocent. Strickler only looks down his nose at him. “And it may have resulted in Señor Uhl taking an unexpected trip to the ER.”

“Which may,” Strickler sneers, “have resulted in some sort of relationship between him and your mother?”

“It’s possible.” Jim shuffles his feet somewhat-guiltily under his former teacher’s stare. “It was Toby’s fault. He brought the burrito.”

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Walter’s response is dry, but dripping with acrimony. “Alas, I do believe my presence in her home would be most… unappreciated by your mother. She did make it perfectly clear the last time we spoke that she would prefer never to see me again. Not that I blame her.” He frowns. “How did she react when you explained all of  _this_  to her?”

“Uh.”

“Uh?” Walter mimics scathingly, leaning forward in his chair as his eyes narrow menacingly. “You told her, didn’t you?”

“I told her  _things_ ,” Jim says slowly, deliberately. “Like, how you were fired and that you were so ashamed you had to move back to England. Which is kind of true.”

Walter’s jaw clenches, lip curling as Nomura cackles behind him, and growls, “It is  _not_.”


	9. UNEXPECTED SURPRISES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> otherwise known as "the abandoned baby-mamma-drama”.

**UNEXPECTED SURPRISES:**

He’s been back in Arcadia for two weeks when he finally sees her.

Most of his time has been spent behind closed doors, debating the pros of certain defensive maneuvers and organizing the best possible attack strategies, and the feeling of confinement has been threatening to suffocate him for days now. He needed to get out of those caves, needed to breathe fresh air and feel the warmth of the sun on his skin. And so he’d taken the opportunity to quietly duck out of what was supposed to be a quick discussion about how they could best utilize NotEnrique (that had somehow erupted into a Blinky and Claire squabble session) for a cup of tea at their –  _his –_ favorite coffee shop.

He chats amicably with the young barista as he orders his usual, explaining away his absence as a series of unfortunate familial incidents he’d had to attend to, before heading outside to his preferred two-top. It’s a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky and he can’t think of a better way to spend his afternoon as he takes a sip of his drink and settles back into the chair.

Two hours and an embarrassing number of refills later the sun is halfway through its descent when he reluctantly pushes back. The meeting is bound to have broken up by now, and it’s best he gets back to his little hovel before anyone realizes he’s shaken the short leash they’ve been keeping him on. He’s halfway standing when the sound of  _her_  laughter suddenly fills his ears. He freezes, eyes wide and heart pounding as she steps into his line of vision.

The ground seems to sway under his feet.

She’s got on her scrubs and her auburn hair has started to fall out of her bun, there’s a smear of something that could be vomit on her shoulder, her glasses are smudged, and there are dark circles under her bright blue eyes, but that wide, cheerful smile on her face is infectious and Walt honestly doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so beautiful before in his very long life. He takes a subconscious step forward, and rams his knee into the very heavy metal table. The jarring pain is enough to snap him out of his stupor and that’s when he realizes Barbara isn’t alone, that she’s laughing with a tall, blond man he vaguely recognizes as one of the orthopedic surgeons at her hospital.

 _It’s nothing_ , he thinks just before the surgeon’s hand comes to rest on Barbara’s lower back. The grin she flashes the blond is enough to make Walt’s blood boil and he’s sidestepping the table to instigate (though he  _swore_  to himself he would avoid her at all costs) when he notices the way Barbara’s scrubs have smoothed over her slightly rounded belly. He stops and blinks. Barbara shouldn’t have a belly at all. Barbara is bony and thin and doesn’t have enough fat on her body to keep her warm in summer.

But Barbara  _does_ have a rounded belly that is made all the more prominent when her hand rests upon it just before she’s ushered into the café.The blood drains from Walt’s face.

 _Food baby?_  He hopes silently before shaking away the thought. He’s bared witness to Barbara’s binging after a long shift and this bump is nothing like those caused by cheeseburgers and cake.

She’s pregnant, obviously. But when? And how? He was gone a little over five months and the swell of her stomach is too big to be anything less than that. Unless, his treacherous heart twists, she was seeing the surgeon before he left? No, she would never do that. Barbara is loyal and selfless and would never subject anyone to the pain she felt when her husband had been unfaithful.

Which leads to the next question – how? Changelings aren’t able to reproduce. They have the equipment but shoot blanks due to the manipulation and magic done to their DNA and there has never been a documented record of a hybrid conception in any of the historical texts he’s read before.

“Oh hell,” Walt mutters to himself as the realization of what he’s truly done settles upon him. Not only has he somehow defied the rules of biology  _and_ magic, but he’s also managed to drag poor Barbara into it in the most despicable way possible.

With the magnitude of his mistakes beginning to weigh on him, Walt takes a deep breath and forces himself into action before his knees give way. He’s lucky Barbara didn’t notice him the first time she’d passed by, but he doesn’t want to push it, so he steals one last look at her through the café window, nose wrinkling at the way the surgeon’s arm is thrown around her shoulders, before setting off.

If he wants answers, he needs to talk to Jim.

Which is why he’s hunched over Barbara’s kitchen table an hour later, staring blankly at the picture in his hands. He’d somehow managed to convince himself that it had all been a misunderstanding during his long walk from the café. A trick of the light or an awkward wrinkle in her shirt, he’d thought with certainty as he let himself into the kitchen through the garage. And then he’d spotted the sonogram stuck to the refrigerator and his carefully constructed denial had come crashing down around him.

The due date is listed as a little less than four months away. Counting back, Walt pins the window of conception to be the week prior to the night in which he had utterly destroyed his life. He hopes it happened during one of their more romantic interludes and not that quickie against the wall in his office, but he can’t quite figure out why that particular detail is so important.

Walt rubs his eye with the back of his hand and sits back in the chair.

It’s a girl, or so it says in white type just below the border of the sonogram. His heart keeps flip-flopping unexpectedly every time his eye catches the words and, though the phenomenon isn’t entirely unwelcome, the implications make him somewhat nervous. There have only been a handful of times in his centuries-long life that he has felt genuine affection for others and that attachment had never, not even for Barbara, manifested so quickly before. What he’ll do when he’s told he’s not welcome in his daughter’s life, he doesn’t know or want to think about yet.

“You know, it’s called ‘breaking and entering’ when you let yourself into someone’s house uninvited.”

Walt looks up to find Jim leaning against the doorframe, arms folded and frowning. They’ve come to a sort of truce over the past two weeks, Jim has even sought him out for advice on more than just battle strategy, but that doesn’t mean this is going to be a pleasant conversation for either of them and Walt figures it’s best to skip the pleasantries.

“You know, it’s called ‘being a dickhead’ when you see a man every day for two weeks and neglect to inform him of his impending fatherhood.”

Jim points at him and says grudgingly, “Touché.”

“Why don’t you have a seat and bring me up to speed?” There’s a hard edge in Walt’s eyes, one honed over the years by defiant teenagers and overly ambitious minions, and he slaps the tabletop across from him with a little more force than intended.

Jim hesitates a second, eyebrows furrowing, but ultimately decides it’s too late to ignore the situation. It was only a matter of time before Strickler found out anyway and, whether he likes it or not, the changeling deserves some sort of explanation. Unfortunately, his mother’s continued ignorance means the responsibility falls to him. As usual.

“She’s healthy,” Jim says as he pulls out the chair and takes a seat.

“Which one?”

“Both.”

Walter nods before glancing back at the sonogram. “I don’t see any horns.”

“She’s developing like a normal human.” Jim gestures at the picture. “Mom opted for the genetic testing a few weeks ago and everything came back okay. Nothing abnormal or weird.”

That’s a relief. Walt had been certain there would be mutations or deficiencies and had been comforted when the sonogram showed nothing obviously out of the ordinary. Hearing confirmation from Jim, however, is much more reassuring. “And Barbara?”

“She’s fine.”

The words are clipped, almost snappish, and Walt senses a bit of accusation in Jim’s tone. Barbara is obviously not fine, or wasn’t before, and the teenager blames him for it. “You’re sure about that?”

“Yes.”

Walt nods, watching Jim warily. “How did she react when you told her about your secret life?”

“I didn’t.”

“I thought not.” Walt sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Will you tell me why?”

Jim relaxes slightly at the older man’s calm, neutral tone. He’d been expecting indignant anger on his mother’s behalf, but one of the reasons Jim had been drawn to Strickler in the first place was his openness and his ability to listen without passing judgement before judgement was due.

“She was scared,” Jim finally mutters after a long, apprehensive moment. “And I just… I know I should have told her, but she would have freaked and I didn’t want her more stressed than she already was.”

“Can’t fault your logic,” Walt concedes with a nod. “How much does she remember?”

“Nothing troll-related, and nothing about you after you put the enchantment on her. Everything else is still there.”

“She doesn’t remember  _how_  she got pregnant?”

“No.”

Walt groans and leans forward to cover his face with his hands. He should have stayed, should have finished what he’d started and waited until things had settled down. But he’d been in such a hurry to retreat, to run away from the guilt and the heartbreak, that he had left Jim to clean up his messes without argument and now… now he bitterly regrets that decision.

“She started acting weird a couple weeks after… that night.” Jim’s gaze drops to the table. “I don’t know if she talked to anyone about it, but she was super cagey around me for a while. That was pretty rough.”

“I can’t begin to imagine what she was thinking.”

“She finally told me about the baby and asked me if she’d been seeing anyone about a month later.” Jim shrugs, though he’s obviously troubled by the memories. “I was gonna lie, but she had this look in her eye and I just… couldn’t. So, I told her you two were dating but broke up when you took a research position in Greece.”

“And she accepted that?”

“Mostly.” Jim nods. “She wanted to try to get in touch with you, but I told her you were in some remote area and didn’t have access to a phone or internet.”

“She didn’t question  _why_  she couldn’t remember dating me?” Walt’s eyebrows quirk skeptically.

“I think, at that point, she was just relieved to know it wasn’t something more…” Jim grimaces and waves his hand to indicate the  _more-_ ness.

“Right.” Walt knows what Jim is alluding to and he’s happy to leave it unsaid. If Barbara wants to talk about it sometime down the road he’ll listen without interruption, but he doesn’t need her teenage son to elaborate just now. “How would you like to proceed?”

“Would you be cool with pretending this conversation,” Jim sits up a little straighter in his chair and smiles hopefully, “never happened?”

Walt responds with an amused, but undoubtedly negative, snort.

“Didn’t think so.” Jim’s nose wrinkles in disappointment. “Alright, let’s just tell her you came back from Greece last night and-“

“No,” Walt’s tone is firm and steady. “We are not lying to her. Not this time. She deserves the truth.”

“I knew you were gonna say that,” Jim groans and drops his forehead to the table with a thud.

“What time does her shift end?” Walter asks, ignoring the teenage theatrics. “Do you know when she’ll be home?”

Jim looks up, bewildered. “You wanna do this tonight?”

“There’s no time like the present, young Atlas.” Walter gives him a grim smile because, no, he doesn’t want to do this tonight. Or ever, really. Confessing his true nature to Barbara is terrifying, but the thought of her living this lie another moment is almost unbearable. “Trust me, you’ll feel much better once you tell her the truth.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Doubt it.”


	10. FAMILY TIES

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr Prompt: "So wait, Ms Nomura is kinda like your... sister?" (because I'm a big nerd of disaster siblings, and also I love the idea that Strickler comes not only with an array of babies, but also with an extended family of bad-mannered misfits).

**FAMILY TIES:**

“What’s the final count?” Barbara asks, quirking an eyebrow as she settles back into the crook of the couch. She’s not quite sure how their conversation had veered from Walter’s involvement in several high-profile historical schemes to his involvement _with_ several high-profile historical schemers, but she’s got an inkling it has to do with the bottle of wine currently clutched to her chest. “Or, have you kept track?”

Walter pulls her feet onto his lap and leans his head back against the cushions. “Are you really asking me how many sexual partners I’ve had?”

“I’m curious.” She shrugs and wiggles her toes at him. “You’re what? Forty-thousand or something? That’s a long time to pad your number.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I am _not_ Cro-Magnon,” Walter huffs and gives her calf a playful poke with his index finger. “And I am not going to give you a number.”

Barbara grins. “Tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.”

“Tempting offer,” Walter taps his chin in mock thoughtfulness, “but no. Does it really matter?”

“It doesn’t _matter_ , no.” Barbara shrugs and smirks mischievously over the almost-empty-bottle before taking a quick sip. “But you have to admit, your _history_ is pretty fascinating. I mean, who else can claim to have bedded a Borgia and to have participated in a threesome with Russian royalty?”

“I never should have told you about that.”

“Ah, but you did,” Barbara teases with a pointed look. “And I, for one, am very intrigued. What other historical figures have you managed to conquer?”

“Wow,” Walter chuckles, shaking his head as he leans forward to take the wine from Barbara. He polishes it off and sets the empty bottle on the coffee table before resuming his lounge. “And you call me cheesy.”

Barbara rolls her eyes. “What about trolls?”

“What about them?”

“Have you ever _been_ with one?”

“Full-blooded trolls, my dear, would rather turn to dust than knowingly engage in a sexual relationship with a changeling,” Walter says after a moment. “But I was in the Darklands a long time before I was assigned a familiar, and changelings have needs too.”

“Anyone I know?”

Walter’s nose immediately wrinkles. The question may seem innocent, but he knows Barbara’s acquaintanceship with changelings is entirely limited. “Barbara, my love. Nomura is my sister.”

Barbara blinks. “ _What_?”

“I said, Nomura is –“

“Nomura is your sister?” Barbara interrupts, eyes as wide as saucers as she tries to comprehend how he’d managed to keep something as important as a sibling from her. “Like, your sister? How did I not know this?”

“We’re technically nestmates,” Walter concedes with a shake of his head. “There’s no blood relation, but we were raised together – Nomura, Otto and I.”

“Otto?”

“My creepy German friend? Remember?” Walter says with a snort. “I introduced you that day at the café. He called you my ‘lady doctor’ and insinuated I should keep you around because I am a very specific part of the female anatomy.”

“I thought your head was going to explode,” Barbara giggles as she recalls the look of abject horror Walter wore throughout their conversation with Otto that morning. “I can’t believe I’m just now finding out about this.”

“It never came up, did it?”

“Never came up?” Barbara arches her eyebrows in disbelief. “I literally asked, do you have any brothers or sisters? And you gave me a most enthusiastic, no!”

“Let me rephrase,” Walter backpedals, though he does so into very dangerous territory. “It never came up _after_ I stopped lying to you.”

Barbara narrows her eyes and tilts her head and says as seriously as possible, “I bet Nomura kicked your ass up, down and all around whatever it is you changelings called a playground.”

“That, my dear, is slander,” Walter laughs and jerks forward to pull Barbara onto his lap. She shrieks, and with his arms around her shoulders and his nose an inch from hers, he adds, “And I’ll have you know that I taught Nomura everything she knows about combat.”

“Doubtful.”

“I’d be happy to schedule a demonstration of my superior skill if you’d like.”

“I would,” Barbara murmurs before kissing the tip of his nose with a mischievously innocent smirk. “And while you’re demonstrating your superiority, I’ll be looking through all those embarrassing photos I’m sure she’s kept as blackmail material.”


	11. CHISELED

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr promt: Walter proposing to Barbara with a necklace made from his living stone. Since she's a doctor rings are taken off and a necklace would be more convenient for her. In the animation notes they said Walter's skin was Serpentine. A nice gemstone necklace.

**CHISELED:**

“You’re certain?” Nomura asks, her arms crossed and frowning. “This is… You don’t have to do this.”

“I know.” Walter gives her a small, appreciative smile as he settles onto the stone bench in her quarters. It’s not often Nomura shows concern for anyone, and to be the focus of her worry is somewhat humbling for the jade changeling. “But I _want_ to.”

Nomura eyes him, and doesn’t move from her post beside the table. “Are you just being cheap? Because I know for a fact you have bank accounts – and probably coffee cans full of cash – hidden throughout Europe and the States. You can afford a real one.”

“It’s not about the money,” Walter snorts, rolling his eyes at her. “And they’re biscuit tins, not coffee cans.”

“I’m serious, Stricklander,” Nomura growls, and there’s a bit of panic in her tone. “Barbara would be happy with a shoelace on her finger. Just get her a diamond like a normal person.”

Walter arches an eyebrow and tilts his head. “Nomura, what is there about this situation that you would deem normal? I’m a centuries-old changeling that is stuck in troll-form asking a very human woman to marry me.”

“Okay, you _may_ have a point,” Nomura concedes with a huff after a moment of failing to form a rebuttal. “But that doesn’t mean you need to carve out your own flesh and give it to her. That’s… And you want me to chisel it from the stone over your heart? That’s insane. What if I slip? It would take one wrong move and you’d be dead. And for what? An engagement ring?”

“I can always ask Noxel.”

“He’s a _shit_ tattooist and you know it!”

“Which is why I came to you,” Walter says slowly, patiently. “I trust you, Nomura. You’ve been carving and sculpting for hundreds of years. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

Nomura sighs, and rubs a hand over her face. “There’s no talking you out of this?”

“No.”

“It’s not the same, you know?” Nomura shakes her head. “She’s not going to fully understand the meaning behind the gesture.”

“She doesn’t have to.” Walter shrugs, already very much aware of Barbara’s ignorance regarding troll/changeling mating customs. “ _I_ understand, and that’s what really matters. I want to give myself to her, Nomura. A marital tattoo… I could go that route, but it just doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like it’s _enough_. This is… It’s a way to fuse our traditions together.” When she doesn’t move, he sweetens the pot with, “And it’s going to hurt like hell. You might even make me cry.”

Nomura stares at him for a long time – the desire to mutilate him warring quite aggressively with the apprehension she’s felt since he’d approached her with this ridiculous idea – before letting out a deep breath through her nose and nodding. She scoops the pouch of chisels off the table and crosses the cave. “Fine,” she mutters as she pulls a stool over and perches herself in front of Walter. “But you do know Barbara will murder me if I accidentally kill you? Maybe I should make you sign a waiver.”

“A waiver won’t stop her from avenging my death,” Walter chuckles, his clawed hands wrapping around the edge of the bench in nervous anticipation as Nomura pulls out a specific chisel and maul. “And she’ll make you suffer.”

“Not as much as you’re about to,” Nomura scoffs matter-of-factly as she places the chisel against the stone-flesh over Walter’s heart. “Should I get you a swathe of leather to bite down on?”

“Shut up, Nomura.”

The pain is intense, but it’s worth it, and two weeks later Walter anxiously presents Barbara with a simple, smoothed band carved from his own serpentine chest and a dainty, cobalt chain to wear it on.

She whole-heartedly accepts.


	12. THE MORNING AFTER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: for the stricklake prompt — first time waking up with each other? whether it’s post-coitus, or after getting married, or just waking up w each other is fair game!

**THE MORNING AFTER:**

He wakes to the sound of birds chirping.

Which is perfectly pleasant and all, but the sunshine filtering through the buttercup-colored curtains is much too bright and Walter buries his face further into the plush pillow in a desperate attempt to block out the rays. It works, and for a brief sleep-and-oxygen deprived moment he truly believes that sweet slumber is within his grasp.

Wait. He tilts his chin straight up, eyes blinking open drowsily as his sluggish brain begins processing his current situation. Birds... woke him up? And the sun is already out?

No, no that can’t be right.

He tilts his head to the right and quirks a brow as the digital clock on his bedside table flips to 7:42. Well, isn’t that nice? He hasn’t slept this late in _weeks_. Nine weeks, to be exact. Nine excessively exhausting weeks since the baby…

Walter flops over, eyes wide and panicked as he scrambles over Barbara to peek into the bassinet beside the bed.

“Babe, what the…”

But Walter’s only got eyes for the sweet, cherub-cheeked baby dozing peacefully in her cradle. He studies her for a long moment – forehead scrunching as he scrutinizes the steady rise and fall of her tiny chest, the content sighs escaping her delicately bowed lips, the sweep of strawberry fuzz along her forehead – until he’s completely satisfied nothing nefarious has befallen his precious girl overnight.

“What are you doing?”

Walter glances over his shoulder to find Barbara gazing at him, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “It’s almost eight,” he whispers and then nods at the baby. “Did you get up with her last night?”

“Not once,” she quietly responds and curls her fingers gently around his bicep to guide him back under the duvet. “She must have slept through.”

“All night?”

“It’s a good thing,” Barbara assures him, trailing her fingertips along her husband’s jaw until he turns onto his side to face her. “Maybe we can move her into her own room now.”

“But she’s still so little,” Walter protests weakly, not at all onboard with evicting their littlest roommate.

Barbara chuckles lightly and wiggles forward to rest her forehead against Walter’s, her palm slipping to his cheek as she says softly, “Maybe so. But she’s not as delicate as you think she is.”

“What if something happens?”

“We bought a monitor for a reason, Walt.” Barbara sighs, somewhat exasperated by his reluctance. “And she’ll probably sleep better without your incessant snoring waking her up all the time.”

“I do _not_ snore,” Walter sniffs, though he does look a bit put-out at the thought of his nighttime rumbling affecting their daughter’s sleeping habits. “Do I?”

“You do,” Barbara answers with an apologetic peck on the cheek. She yawns through her nose and snuggles downward to tuck her head under his chin. “And this is nice.”

 _It is nice,_ Walter thinks warmly and wraps an arm around Barbara’s shoulders as she hooks her leg over his thigh. They haven’t done this in months, not since bringing the baby home. And as much as he wants to keep her here safely cocooned in their bedroom, it might be worth it to move the little girl to the nursery if it means more mornings spent lazily cuddling under the covers with his wife.

And if those cuddles should turn into wandering hands and kisses along collarbones and sleepy sighs of pleasure…

“Alright, dear. We shall banish our daughter to the nursery,” Walter proclaims quietly into Barbara’s hair, hand sliding to her lower back as he pushes his hips forward. “But you’re breaking the news to her.”


	13. TWO YEARS, TOO LONG

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mostly dialogue. just something to get the creative juices flowing and practice writing the trio.

**TWO YEARS, TOO LONG:**

“I don’t…” Jim’s eyes dart frantically from Claire to Toby and back again. “I don’t understand. What happened to you guys? Why do you look…” He shakes his head and gestures at Tony’s freshly trimmed facial hair. “How did you grow a beard?”

“Jimbo. Um.” Toby swallows and glances briefly at Claire, hoping for some sort of intervention from the self-proclaimed master of improv. She provides none. “Dude, it’s uh… It’s been two years.”

Jim’s nose wrinkles in confusion as he stares blankly at his best friend. “Two years? Since what?”

“Since you disappeared into the Darklands,” Toby says slowly, wincing at the look of utter disbelief that takes hold of Jim’s features.

“What? No. No, I was only in there for three weeks. Twenty-two days, exactly.” His gaze swings to Claire. “Claire? Tell him.”

“Jim,” Claire starts. She closes her eyes and raises from her crouch. “He’s right. You’ve been gone twenty-two months. I guess… Well, according to Strickler time doesn’t flow the same in the Darklands as it does here. It’s slower, and every day there is roughly the equivalent of a month on the surface.”

Jim blinks. “But… That can’t be right.”

“Look at us,” Claire says softly and gestures to herself and Toby. “We’re seniors. Toby just turned eighteen and my birthday is next week. Look. He got his braces off a year ago.”

Toby grimaces toothily and points at his perfectly even chompers. “Brace-free and loving it.”

“I don’t…” Jim takes a deep, panicked breath. “This can’t be happening. I can’t…”

“Deep breaths, Jimbo,” Toby instructs soothingly. He reaches out to place a calming hand on Jim’s shoulder as he drops his face into his hands. “Remember? Deep breaths.”

Jim squeaks and then suddenly looks up, eyes wide. “My mom!”

“Is fine,” Toby assures him as Claire once again crouches down to the boys’ level. When Jim opens his mouth to seemingly argue, Toby swiftly cuts him off. “She knows everything. All about trolls and goblins and what you were doing in the Darklands. We, um…”

“We had to tell her,” Claire says with a sigh. “We could only keep up appearances with the Glamour Mask for so long. And when you didn’t come back after a few weeks… It wasn’t fair to keep it from her anymore.”

Jim groans, anguished with shame and guilt for his mother’s most-assured emotional cliff dive.

“Strickler did most of the talking.” Toby gives Jim’s shoulder a squeeze. “He’s a lot better at that kind of stuff. And we figured your mom would need the support.”

Claire snorts and Toby flashes her an annoyed glance.

“What?” Jim asks, looking at Claire in alarm. “What was that for?”

“He’s just…” Claire shakes her head, but does award him a genuine smile. “He’s been very helpful, Jim. When Usurna dumped the bridge pieces –“

“Usurna what?!”

“She had Killahead Bridge torn down,” Claire breathes. “And then she had the pieces dumped in the middle of the ocean.”

“But Claire,” Toby nudges her with his shoulder, “and NotEnrique were able to recover most of them from the shipping container before it sank.”

“I  _still_  have nightmares.”

“But we thought a few of them were lost forever,” Toby admits. “Strickler, however, has friends in  _low_ places. It took some time –“

“Obviously,” Claire interjects under her breath.

“- but we finally managed to locate the remains of the container and collect the last couple of pieces. We’ve been rebuilding it in secret.” Toby nods at the fully constructed bridge behind them. “Dude, your mom is gonna freak. She hasn’t given up hope for a second. Even when the rest of us…”

Jim ignores the sheepish look on his friend’s face as he trails off and scans the wooded area around them. “Where is she? If she knows about all this, why isn’t she here?”

“She’s at home with the bae-ked goods.” Toby’s eyes widen. “We baked things. To honor your, um, return?”

“We didn’t tell her.” Claire rolls her eyes at Toby’s lame attempt to cover his almost-slip. “She’s been through enough and we didn’t want to get her hopes up in case anything went wrong. She doesn’t even know we finished rebuilding the bridge yet.”

“Which reminds me,” Toby mumbles as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He scrolls through the contacts and shoots off a quick text before returning it. “Strickler. He’ll give her the heads-up so she won’t be so shocked when you get home.”

 _Home_ , Jim thinks with a surge of longing. “Can we go now?” He asks, and slowly gets to his feet. “This is a lot to take in and I really just want to… I just really want to go home.”

“Yeah!” Claire says a little too brightly. “Of course. Um, do you want me to use my staff or –“

“No.” Jim shakes his head. “No, I’ve had enough of magic portals tonight. Can we just walk?”

“Yeah,” Toby agrees instantly and they begin heading toward the south end of the woods. He pulls out his phone again and shoots off another text. “Totally.”

They walk in silence for a few minutes as Jim very slowly begins to digest this latest predicament he’s found himself, until he suddenly asks, “What have you guys been doing?”

“What?”

“A lot happens in two years,” Jim says softly, realizing the truth behind the words and what it must mean for him. “What have you guys been up to?”

“Oh. Well, I’m an alien.”

“And he was Homecoming King.”

“Wait.” Jim shakes his head. “You what?!”

“Yeah, well.” Toby shrugs and grins. “Dating Darci really scored me some popularity points. You should have seen Steve’s face when my name was announced. Dead, dude. He was just… dead. Probably one of the best moments of my life.”

“No.” Jim rolls his eyes. “You’re an alien?”

“Oh, that!” Toby nods as they step out of the woods. “My grandfather was from a planet called Akiridion 5. Pretty cool dude. A little intense, but that’s okay. I think you’ll like Vex.”

“He’s alive?”

“He lives with us,” Toby says, eyebrows raised. “A little awkward sometimes, but hey. He makes Nana happy.”

“So,” Jim rubs his hand over his face, “you’re an alien  _and_ Homecoming King? Okay. Claire?”

Claire shoots him a small, sideways smile. “Witch.”

“Why does that make more sense than anything else you’ve told me tonight?” Jim takes a deep breath. “And Aaarrrgghh is alive? But how did that even happen?”

“Strickler had a book all about Creeper’s Sun. We had to get it back from the Janus Order –“

“ _That_ was an adventure.”

“-first, and when we finally got the antidote Aaarrrgghh was… Possessed?” Toby glances at Claire for confirmation. “Yeah, possessed by Kanjigar for a hot second. And then he got repossessed when we finished the bridge. But that was because we needed a Trollhunter to open it.”

“There was a very endearing father/son moment between Kanjigar and Draal,” Claire adds.

“I’ll admit,” Toby sighs, “I teared up a bit.”

“Wow,” Jim chuckles, though he doesn’t sound amused at all. “Sounds like I missed a lot.”

“We’ll fill you in,” Claire says softly and gives his forearm a gentle squeeze. “And I’m sure we’re in for a lot more adventures now that you’re back.”

“We?”

Claire opens her mouth, closes it and clears her throat. “We’ll talk more about that later. Okay?”

He doesn’t like the answer, but Jim’s tired brain can’t seem to dwell on it as they turn onto his cul-de-sac and his house comes into view. He swallows, unsure and excited and relieved all at once.

“Do you want us to go in with you?” Claire asks.

“No.” Jim takes a deep breath as he walks up the path to his own front door. “I can handle it.”

“Jim…” Claire frowns at Toby. “Look, we’ll be at TP’s if you need us.”

Jim nods, but his focus is solely on the door in front of him.


	14. SHUT UP AND DANCE WITH ME?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walt awkwardly asks Barbara to chaperone Homecoming.

**SHUT UP AND DANCE WITH ME?**

“There’s this dance,” Walter explains softly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he gazes steadily at Barbara’s toes. “I volunteered to chaperone, but that was before… Well, anyway. I know we have plans next weekend, but Uhl is holding me to my commitment and –“

“Walt, honey?”

“Yes?” Walter looks up with an endearingly hopeful expression on his face.

Barbara grins and quirks an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to Homecoming?”


	15. REAL, OR NOT REAL?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written, generally, in the Variables world but stands alone.

**REAL, OR NOT REAL?**

“What,  _exactly_ , did that…  _Angor Rot_ tell you about the enchantment?” Barbara’s body is drawn taut, her tone unforgiving. “You know,  _before_  you decided to use it against me?”

“Not very much,” Walter admits quietly, unable to meet her gaze. “Only the basics – that it had been utilized in the past to neutralize enemy threats, that you would suffer any physical injury I sustained and vice versa… Barbara, you must believe me. If I had known the true intent and purpose of the enchantment I never would have used it on you.”

“But you were okay with using me as a shield? As insurance?” She scoffs incredulously at his answer. “The possibility of physical harm is just fine, but you draw the line at an emotional connection?” She chuckles, but it’s cold and humorless. “Is any of it even real? What we feel for each other, is it true emotion or just the byproduct of some spell?”

“The enchantment doesn’t create affection,” Walter says, the abject pleading in his voice raw and desperate. “It heightens an emotional bond, yes, but it can’t create a new one. Everything we shared… Everything we  _felt_  was real.”


	16. DOCTOR'S ORDERS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: #35 - “Take your medicine.”

“I can’t believe I have to resort to this.” Barbara thrusts the small plastic cup in Walter’s direction. “But I’m giving you to the count of three.”

“No,” Walter moans miserably. He turns away from her and attempts to bury his face in the couch cushion, but is thwarted by her hand on his shoulder. “I don’t like it.”

“One.”

“It’s vile, love.”

Barbara quirks her brow sternly as he tries to wiggle out of her grasp. “Two.”

“You take it!” Walter counters petulantly, glaring at the liquid in the cup with disgust as he desperately tries to keep from whimpering. “I don’t need it.”

“Three.”

“No!”

“Walter Strickler,” Barbara growls through clenched teeth. “Take your medicine!”


	17. BUT, IT'S CHRISTMAS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: 96 for Drabble challenge, Merlin x Blinky (could be one sided) if you’re not too busy 🙂
> 
> #96 - “It’s Christmas, don’t be mad at me.”

Merlin is, above all else, attracted to power.

Which is probably why it takes so long for him to realize what’s happening and even longer to reconcile  _why_. Because Blinky doesn’t become truly comfortable, truly confident as New Trollmarket’s leader until he has been in the role for a dozen or so years, and Merlin doesn’t find himself becoming drawn to the troll for more than that.

And when he does make the connection, he doesn’t struggle with it. Just chalks it up to what it is – a steadfast gravitation toward someone else able to capably wield knowledge and authority – and begins finding excuses to linger by the six-eyed troll’s side whenever possible.

Not that the troll appreciates the attention.

“Do you mind?” Blinky huffs one afternoon when the wizard spends a bit too much time hovering near the entrance to his dwelling. “We are in the middle of a very important celebration.”

One which Merlin would have liked to have been invited to, but was not asked to participate in. “I would like to speak with you about the influx of trolls moving into the caves near my –“

“And I am in the middle of a very important celebration,” Blinky says again, eyes narrowing impatiently. “I trust you can see yourself out.”

Merlin blinks, still taken aback by the troll’s hostility after all these years. “Oh, Blinkous. Please. It’s Christmas, don’t be mad at me.”

“It’s not Christmas, you bumbling…” Blinky’s fists clench as he forces himself to resume control of his emotions. In a calmer, more diplomatic tone he says, “It’s not Christmas, Merlin.”

“But the Trollhunter gave you a gift.”

“Yes,” Blinky answers slowly. “Because it’s Father’s Day.”

“You’re not his father.”

Blinky takes a deep breath. “Maybe not, but he cares for me as if I were. And that’s what matters.”

“Ah.” Merlin mulls over Blinky’s words as the troll stares at him in continued confusion. Finally, he says, “If the Trollhunter gave you a gift on Father’s Day because he thinks of you as a father, then I shall give you a gift on Valentines Day because I think of you as –“ 

Blinky squeaks.


	18. HUMOR ME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: #38 - “Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor?”

“She said yes!”

Walter rolls his eyes, not even bothering to look up from the strawberries he’s slicing as Barbara pockets her cell. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“Well, no,” Barbara admits, her nose wrinkling as their younger son drops his bag of filthy soccer gear on the counter. She gives the boy an annoyed, exasperated look, but rallies quickly. “Still! They’re getting married!”

“Jim finally manned up?”

“Walker!”

“They’ve been together for twelve  _years_ , Mom.” Walker gives his mother a pointed look before yanking open the refrigerator. “It’s about time.”

“He has a point,” Walter drawls, and then nods at the duffel. “Move it, Walk.”

“It’s exciting,” Barbara insists, eyebrows arching as she crosses her arms over her chest and leans back against the kitchen counter.

“Will I have to wear a tux?” Walker looks mightily unimpressed by the idea as he loops the duffel over his shoulder. “Cause if I have to wear a tux, I’m out.”

“You won’t have to wear a tux.”

Barbara tilts her head and calmly informs the boy, “You  _might_ have to wear a tux.”

“I’m not wearing a tux.”

“You really think this wedding is going to be that formal?” Walter scoffs as he shakes his head in Walker’s direction. “You won’t have to wear a tux.”

“It might be.” Barbara stiffens, annoyed and suddenly feeling quite defiant. “And you know what? It’s going to be formal now.”

“Isn’t that a decision for Claire and Jim?” Walter asks, quirking an eyebrow as he dumps the sliced berries into a bowl.

Barbara shrugs and pulls her cell back out of her pocket to call Ophelia. “Not anymore.”

“Then you better plan quick,” Walter snickers, holding up the fruit he’d been about to cut into with a delightedly mischievous grin. “So they  _cantaloupe_!”

“Dad.” Walker shakes his head, clearly disappointed in his father’s failed attempt at humor. Again. “That was… so lame.”

“Oh, come off it,” Walter defends, still chuckling at his own joke. But Walker just rolls his eyes and exits the kitchen as Walter calls jovially after him, “Why can’t you appreciate my sense of humor? That was  _funny_!”


	19. THE KIDS, THEY AMBUSHED ME

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: #40 – “The kids, they ambushed me.”

The house is quiet, too quiet – and it puts Barbara on edge the second she steps through the front door. “Walt?” She calls warily, her voice echoing through the foyer. “Babe, are you here?”

“Loo.”

He sounds… annoyed, and Barbara quirks a curious brow as she heads down the hallway. “Is everything okay? Were the boys – Walt! What happened to you?”

“I closed my eyes for five minutes. And…” He lets out a pouting huff, which is rather comical with all the rainbow-colored swirls and scribbles covering his face. “The kids, they ambushed me.”

Barbara sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and bites down hard in a desperate attempt to remain stoic, but when Walter narrows his eyes and she realizes his eyebrows have been outlined with bright pink marker, she absolutely loses it.

“I’m happy to see you’re enjoying my shame,” Walter drawls, turning back to the mirror with a roll of his eyes. “Really.”

“I’m so… sorry,” Barbara gasps between giggles. “Is that a poop emoji on your cheek?”

“Walker has obviously inherited his mother’s artistic abilities.” He strains his neck to continue checking the damage. “I do have parent/teacher conferences tonight, you know?”

“At least they didn’t use permanent marker,” Barbara grins, her giggles finally starting to subside. He catches her eye in the mirror and scowls, causing her eyes to widen. “Oh my god. Please tell me they didn’t use permanent marker.”

“I wish I could.”


	20. TOO MUCH CANDY

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompts: #13 - “I lost our baby.” AND #23 - “Do you really need all that candy?”

“Walt, honey?” Barbara tilts her head, eyebrows arching curiously as she watches her husband struggle to wiggle out backwards from behind the couch. “What are you doing?”

The wiggling pauses, then suddenly intensifies tenfold until Walter finally manages to free himself from the couch’s clutches. “Barbara!” He yelps and shifts back onto his haunches, his usually perfectly coiffed hair sticking out at odd angles. “I lost our baby!”

“You what?”

“I just…” He gulps as he stands. “I wanted to rest my eyes for two minutes –  _two minutes_  – and when I opened them she was gone.”

Barbara narrows her eyes. “Two minutes?”

“Possibly three.”

“Three. Sure.” Barbara rolls her eyes and begins glancing around the living room. “Well, it’s not like she could have gotten very far. She’s not even walking yet.”

Which is when they hear the tell-tale sound of plastic crinkling and a gleeful squeal coming from the dining room. They glance at each other and shrug, before stooping down to see their sweet little girl – cherub-cheeked and covered in chocolate – sitting under the table in the middle of a pile of discarded sweets.

“Oh, honey.” Barbara cringes, not at all looking forward to the inevitable sugar rush. “Do you really need all that candy?”


	21. NERDS

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: #55 - “You’re a nerd.”

“So, you…” Barbara clicks her tongue and peers curiously down at the stack of large, leather-bound albums. “Collect stamps?”

Walter nods and flips to a random page. “Ooh, here’s my 1915 King George. And this one,” he points to one ruddy red stamp on the opposite page, “is an 1872 Carmine. It’s quite rare. Took me ages to track one down.”

“Hmm,” Barbara hums, nodding vaguely as he continues to boast about the rather large collection. “You know what? It all makes sense now.”

“What does?”

“I just couldn’t figure out why an intelligent, attractive man like you was single. But I know why now.” Barbara grins up at him. “You’re a nerd.”

“I am not!” Walter squawks indignantly. “I’ll have you know; stamp collecting is a very popular hobby. There are cafes and…  _websites_  dedicated to it solely. It’s very hip.”

“Yeah… So, the fact that you just used the word ‘hip’ to describe your little hobby isn’t helping your case,” Barbara says, smirking playfully as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses a wet kiss to the sensitive skin just under his ear. “But you’re in luck. Talking nerdy really turns me on.”


End file.
